


Nothing I Love More

by alwaysbyme



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Smut, Love/Hate, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 18:12:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbyme/pseuds/alwaysbyme
Summary: There was nothing that France loved more than another nation being able to speak French.





	Nothing I Love More

There were many things France loved, many, many things. That was only natural, right? He was the country of love, after all. There were many people that France loved, though only one of them had managed to steal his heart. So it wasn’t very suprsing to him when he found one more thing to add to the list of things he loved.

England speaking French while writhing in pleasure beneath him. It’d taken France awhile to notice it was his own native tongue England was moaning, but when he did notice...well, let’s just say he was more than pleased. 

He leaned down, attacking England’s neck with kisses and marks that just screamed out to other people that this beautiful Englishman was taken already, all while England was clutching his hair and gasping out French words. 

“S'il vous plaît,” Arthur begged, breathlessly, sending a shiver down France’s spine. “J'ai besoin de vous...”

That sent France over the edge. Not only could England speak French fluently, he also pronounced everything like it should be, almost like it was his first language. And that just drove France up the wall. It pleased him more than anything else. 

Though France knew England must not be in his right mind, since he was one: speaking the “language of frogs” as he referred to French as, and two being completely and utterly submissive, which was one thing his boyfriend knew he never did. Even if England was on the bottom he was dominant.

But, when England tugged at France’s hair so that the Frenchman was looking straight into those green, lust-filled eyes, and hissed out: “Je vous veux à l'intérieur de moi, maintenant.” France quickly decided he didn’t care what had gotten into his lover. Right now, he only wanted to fulfill his command. 

England let go of his hair and dropped his head back against the pillow, clutching the sheets as if they were his life line when France trailed kisses down his body, occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin.

England arched his back, a moan escaping his lips when France had reached his destination. The blonde smirked as he lightly teased England’s inner thigh.

The shook his head back and forth. 

“Cessez de me taquiner...” He panted. 

France chuckled, but fulfilled England’s request. He readied himself—though his lover didn’t need that much preparing at all—and rammed himself into England, immediately hitting that sweet spot within him.

England gasped, arching his back. 

“Mon dieu...” he moaned, panting. 

France just grinned and continued, while England squirmed with pleasure. His French words were moaned, screamed, and panted, which only encouraged the Frenchman to keep going.

This would be a long night indeed.

* * *

 The next morning, England woke up and stretched, which he immediately regretted doing, as he was aching all over. He groaned and glanced beside him, where France was laying, grinning at him. 

“Morning, mon amour,” he greeted. “I made breakfast, do you want some?”

England tried to sit up and moved, but the pain that shot through his body insisted otherwise and he hissed.

“You bloody wanker...thanks to you I’m sore all over,” he grumbled. “What the bloody hell got into you last night?”

France smiled. 

“I didn’t know you spoke French, chéri,” He stated, grinning at the blush that covered England’s cheeks. “Where did you ever learn it?” 

“None of your business, frog!” England crossed his arms, having successfully been able to sit up, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. 

France chuckled, and leaned over, kissing his boyfriend’s flushed cheeks, before kissing his lips. England melted into the kiss, closing his eyes and just relaxing into France’s excellent kissing skills. Seriously, who the  _hell_ taught him to kiss like this?

He pulled back, and rested his forehead against England’s. 

“Je t’aime,” he whispered.

Arthur didn’t think his face could get any redder. He looked to the side. 

“Je t'aime aussi, grenouill,” he mumbled.

France laughed, kissing England one last time, before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and went to go fetch the breakfast he’d prepared earlier that morning, leaving England to try and cool his red face.

He smiled to himself.

Yes...England speaking French was defiently something he had to add to the list of things he loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever mention FrUk is my OTP? Yes? Well, here it again! I love these two together so, so much. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the story.
> 
> Have a good day, ciao~


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